


Break In

by lifeaftermeteor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Getting Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: VOLTRON and ATLAS have spent the better part of the year touring together. There’s been some rough times, and some good times...but what occupies VOLTRON frontman Keith’s mind is his relationship with ATLAS singer Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane. What started as a mentorship became a friendship and that has evolved further into...something. What exactly Keith’s not sure, but he better figure it out before the tour ends.  A series of snapshots in time reflecting back on the bands’ time together as their frontmen fall in love.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49
Collections: Bad Boys





	Break In

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2020 Bad Boys Sheith Zine. Sorry it took SO LONG for me to get this posted!!

Hidden from view and hovering in the shadows, Keith watched the crowd press into the hall as time grew short. There was an electric energy spreading across the audience as music from other, more famous bands blasted out of the speakers overhead. _Sold out crowd_ , Keith mused, letting his eyes drift across the pit to the people on the sidelines and then up at the balcony seating above. It was the final gig of the tour and clearly word had gotten around that VOLTRON and ATLAS put on a hell of a show. He smirked to himself in triumph.

It had been a long road to get here. Travel schedules had been brutal and they had been constantly moving, constantly rehearsing, constantly performing. Ever onward, onward, onward. A pace set by their fearless leader and captain.

Takashi Shirogane. Shiro. An idol who became a mentor who became a friend who became... what exactly? Keith bit his lip. Last show. Last chance? He hoped not, but _that_ matter would have to wait until after the house lights went back on.

Shaking his head to dispel his traitorous thoughts, Keith set his shoulders and took a deep breath. His bandmates would be looking for him, and they only humored his pre-show traditions within reason. Turning, he walked deeper into the shadows and down into the venue’s backstage corridors.

One more time. _Last_ time. And then... whatever would come next.

* * *

Coran burst into VOLTRON’s practice studio from the Phoenix heat with his usual flair, holding his cellphone aloft and dabbing at the beads of sweat at his temple with a brightly colored handkerchief. “I bring good news! Gather 'round.”

Keith, the band’s frontman, exchanged a curious look with his bandmates. Allura picked idly at the strings of her bass while Lance and Hunk cradled their guitars in their arms. Pidge meanwhile had to stand to see over the studio drum kit in order to get a decent view of what all the fuss was about. With a shrug, Keith stepped forward to greet their manager, the rest of them pressing in around him. “What is it, Coran?” Keith asked.

“Tour information. Dates and locations and—what I think you’ll be _most_ interested in—the band you’re opening for.”

“Oh, who is it?” Hunk asked as he clasped his hands before him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “GG? Or OLKARI?”

“If we open for MFE, I quit,” Pidge intoned. Keith smirked—he had to agree.

“I’m pleased to inform you that you will be opening for none other than ATLAS,” Coran declared, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

Stunned silence met his announcement, but cacophony followed.

“ATLAS is going on tour again—?”

“ _We’re_ going on tour with _ATLAS_ —?”

“Holy sh—”

“Remind me to buy our promoter a drink— _several_ drinks—a _whole bar_ the next time we see him!”

“Oh, it wasn’t the promoter,” Coran said.

This gave Keith pause even as the rest of the band continued to hug and high-five one another over the news. “What do you mean?”

“The ATLAS manager contacted me. Directly. The band wants to meet Team VOLTRON—before the tour. See if you mesh well enough to spend some extended time together on the road.”

This sobered the group and brought silence back into the studio. With it came mounting confusion. It was Hunk who recovered first. “Isn’t that, like... a little weird?” he asked, his eyes darting between each of his bandmates in turn. “Don’t we usually go through the promoter to keep things—you know—business-like...?”

“And all the tours we’ve been on, we hardly ever saw the other band,” Pidge added, pushing her glasses up her nose. “What gives? Why the extra scrutiny?”

Coran’s tense shoulders betrayed his own reservations about the matter. He shook his head, clearly at a loss. “I’m not sure. It’s quite unusual. But I was assured that it wasn’t the manager’s idea but their bandleader’s.”

Keith perked up at this, feeling his stomach drop to the floor while his heart launched into his throat. _This was Shirogane’s idea?_ Impossible. No way someone like Shiro knew anything about them. They were still too small.

Lance beat him to the punch, per usual. “No way,” their lead guitarist contended, shaking his head. “There’s no way ATLAS knows anything about us. And there’s certainly no way someone like Takashi Shirogane is gonna bother to find out. The guy’s a legend—”

“And yet,” Coran interjected, “here we are.”

“I say we meet with them,” Allura said with an easy shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We turn down or get denied a once-in-a-lifetime chance to tour with ATLAS,” Pidge answered, sounding bitter. “But I think Allura’s right. We almost _can’t_ say ‘no’ to the meeting.”

All eyes turned to Keith then. “What do you think, boss?” Lance asked.

The band lapsed into silence again, unsure how to proceed in such uncharted territory, and waited patiently for his decision. The ATLAS frontman _was_ a legend, that much was true. But this was the first time ATLAS had returned to tour since… _Since the accident,_ Keith realized with a start. Shiro was returning to the stage after several years away.

It was an easy decision. “Coran, call them back. We’ll meet with them.”

* * *

The screams of the crowd rang in his ears. Hands flashed in the stage lights that swung over the pit, keeping time with the driving beat VOLTRON set. Pidge shifted their rhythm on the drums as Allura accompanied the change on bass, deep chords thrumming through the speakers and into Keith’s ribcage.

Keith grinned, dark and vicious, as beads of sweat slid down his spine. “You like that?” he crooned into the mic at his lips, his tongue forming the words like something explicit.

Thousands cried out for more.

* * *

It took all of two shows to confirm ATLAS and VOLTRON were on the same wavelength. Both bands operated like a well-oiled machine and each subsequent show only deepened the performers’ relationships: associates to colleagues, colleagues to friends, friends to family. It happened to easily, so swiftly, that Keith struggled to believe any of it was real even when it was staring him in the face.

Allura had found her sisterhood of shred in Veronica and Acxa, ATLAS' second guitarist and bassist respectively. Veronica’s gregarious nature rivaled even Lance, though Acxa’s shy temperament seemed to balance her more outlandish outbursts. Pidge and Hunk had finally found a kindred spirit in the ATLAS drummer Matt. The three of them talked at _length_ on all things science and technology... when they weren’t raving with the rest of the group about Hunk’s latest cooking experiment or playfully ribbing their bandmates. Lance, as VOLTRON’s lead guitarist, flitted amongst the lot of them, thriving on the social energy. That is, unless he was spending his time starry-eyed over the ATLAS frontman.

Keith felt his mood darken as his thoughts drifted to Shiro. The man was always... kind. It had surprised him how much so—jaded and cynical as he was, he was prepared for the kindness to be just another mask the man wore—but Shiro had given them all such earnest encouragement and support. There was something else there, however, buried beneath. Shiro didn’t talk about it, but Keith recognized a wall when he saw one. He had plenty of his own, after all.

So one night after another killer show, as they all decompressed in a dive bar in a nameless town, Keith followed Shiro outside when the man drifted away from the group for a smoke break.

As Keith approached, he watched Shiro pull a cigarette from the pack and hold a stick between his lips. Cupping his hands around the tip to shield the flame, he lit the cigarette with practiced ease and sighed with something like relief. Keith hesitated a few paces back. Perhaps Shiro hadn’t heard him—

“I keep telling myself these things are bad for me and I should quit,” Shiro said, turning to face him. Acknowledged, Keith closed the distance. Shiro took another drag before he continued, “I actually did—after the accident. It’s something about being on tour again. A situational bad habit.”

“I think you’re allowed a couple of vices, seeing as you’re a step away from sainthood in all other aspects.”

Shiro laughed and the sound had sharp edges. They lapsed into a comfortable silence then, watching the night sky overhead, stars faint from light pollution. Eventually, he broke the silence again.

“So what’s your story?” Shiro asked as he turned to lean back against the brick wall of the bar behind them, long legs crossed loosely and stretched out before him. “And don’t give me the spiel from when we first met. I mean _your_ story.”

Keith shrugged, noncommittal. “Dad died when I was little. Grew up in the system.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Keith shook his head. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” He shrugged again. “Spent a lot of time getting into trouble... but all of that—and Krolia adopting me late in the game—got me here, so. There’s that I guess.”

This piqued Shiro’s interest. “What do you mean?”

Keith brought a hand up and scrubbed at the back of his neck, feeling butterflies swirl in his belly. “I... I tended to get into places I wasn’t supposed to be. There was this one time that MARMORA was playing in town. Didn’t have cash for a ticket, so I snuck in.”

Shiro chuckled. “I don’t blame you—MARMORA is excellent. Let me guess,” he said, jumping in before Keith could say more. “You snuck in, saw them perform, and were inspired to become a rockstar yourself.”

Keith smirked, feeling a shy flush creep up his neck and into his cheeks. “Close, but... not quite.” Shiro quirked an eyebrow at that and waited. “I _did_ go in to see MARMORA. But ATLAS was opening for them.” Keith watched Shiro’s eyes widen at that. “The only reason I ever considered doing any of this is because I saw _you_. You’re the reason I’m here, Shiro.” He worried his lip between his teeth, not wholly able to meet Shiro’s steady gaze. “My life would’ve been a lot different if I hadn’t seen you perform.” Then, thinking back on the last several weeks, he added, “Would have been a lot different if I hadn’t met you, too.”

* * *

One song into the ATLAS set, Shiro had already worked the crowd into a renewed, ecstatic fervor.

Team VOLTRON hovered backstage with the rest of the crew, screaming along with the crowd. “He didn’t have to go that hard,” Lance said against Keith’s ear in an effort to be heard over the roar of the audience, “but he did and now I think I’ve achieved enlightenment.”

Keith grinned and revelled in the euphoria along with them.

* * *

It took several months for Keith to work up the nerve to ask the question that had been stirring in his mind from the beginning. “Why did you want to tour with us?” Keith asked. “When we met, you said it was because our reputation preceded us and our sound was complementary or some bullshit like that. I want to know the _real_ reason.”

Shiro pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned back against the brick wall of the club behind him. His left arm hung loosely at his side while his fingers flicked ashes from the lit cigarette, his metal hand tucked easily into his pocket.

Eventually, Keith’s patience won out. “I saw you perform,” Shiro told him, bringing the cigarette up to his lips to take a drag before expelling smoke up into the empty air above them as if he couldn’t get it out of his lungs fast enough. “Down in Arizona. I was visiting friends after—” The words stopped suddenly on his tongue. _After the accident._ Shiro lapsed into silence again, looking away as he shifted against the wall and shoved his right hand deeper into his pocket. “I hadn’t seen anything like that in a long time,” Shiro continued after a time. “Watching you perform was... something else.”

Keith shook his head. “We’re nothing compared to you and ATLAS—”

“You brought me to tears, Keith,” Shiro told him and any protest died on Keith’s tongue. Gray eyes bored into him. “We have a new album and are on tour again because I saw your show.”

Keith’s mouth went dry as his throat clenched tight around his shock. _Impossible._ He shook his head again. “What am I supposed to say to that?” he asked and immediately resented the petulance that he heard in his voice.

But Shiro smiled at him, lopsided and charming, though there was a wistfulness to it that Keith didn’t understand. “Nothing,” Shiro assured. “But you asked ‘why.’ So now that I’ve told you, what are you going to do about it?”

* * *

Tucked away backstage with the rest of Team VOLTRON, Keith watched Shiro step away from the microphone to take a drink of water from the bottle that had been stashed nearby. It was all the opening Veronica needed to step up to her own microphone stand and ask, “How’s everyone doing?” The crowd roared in answer and she grinned. “That’s what I thought!

“As you know, today’s Shiro’s birthday! He’s finally seven years old!” she declared, glancing sidelong at their frontman who choked around a mouthful of water.

“Ugliest seven-year-old I’ve ever seen,” Matt piped up from behind the drum kit.

Keith saw the petulant ‘Hey!’ form on Shiro’s lips, even if he couldn’t hear it. He bit his lip while he huddled with the rest of his bandmates and waited for Veronica’s cue, snickering as they watched the scene play out.

“And because it’s his birthday, we hope you’ll help us out with this next song. I think you know the words...” Shiro’s eyes went wide with a sudden, horrified realization. A muted, “Don’t you dare!” off-mic, and then— “Haaaaaaaaaaappy birthday to you...”

As the venue burst into a delightfully off-key and energetic rendition of the song, VOLTRON returned on-stage. They rolled out a large sheet cake with candles and ‘I’m Seven!’ scrawled in crooked purple text while the balloons they had tied to the cart’s legs bounced above their heads. Shiro met them centerstage, red in the face but grinning all the same. His gray eyes met Keith’s across the distance that separated them and something sweet and unspoken passed between them.

* * *

They stood on Shiro’s hotel balcony, looking out over the city below. Just past the half-way point of their tour, they shared a comfortable silence as they nursed a couple of beers.

After a time, Shiro spoke. “I hate playing here now.”

The comment took Keith off-guard. “Why?” he asked.

He watched the muscle in Shiro’s jaw clench, shoulders hunched and defeated. “It reminds me of Adam, my ex. We always booked it because it drew a good crowd. Still does, but... it always fell at the halfway point during the tour and he’d come to meet us. We’d spend a few days roaming the city afterward, just the two of us. I don’t remember the shows here... just him.” He shook his head as if to dispel a painful thought.

“What happened?” The question tumbled from Keith’s lips before he could stop it. He shouldn’t have asked. He had no right to.

But Shiro humored him all the same. “I was too much,” he said, the words forming a crooked smile that faltered and broke. Shiro looked away, back at the city stretched out before them. “Drank too much. Smoked too much. Was gone too much. And when I was around, we fought too much. Eventually, he told me that if I left on tour again, he wouldn’t be around when I got back.” He lifted his beer and took a pull from the bottle before he continued. Keith told himself he imagined the sight of his hand trembling. “That hurt,” Shiro said as he exhaled deeply. “The crash almost hurt more.” He raised his right arm off the railing in acknowledgement before setting it back down. “Almost.”

A dark energy surged through Keith at this. Trapped between anger and grief, it raced down his spine and out through his fingertips and propelled him into action. He reached out to touch Shiro’s cheek and was shocked when the man didn’t pull away. Gray eyes watched him and in those eyes, Keith saw all the loneliness and hurt Shiro hid, the longing, and something more primal. Want. Shiro _wanted_ him, wanted this.

Swallowing past the vise around his throat, Keith murmured, “You are _never_ too much,” before he leaned forward and kissed him.

* * *

As the final chords of the last song of the set faded, the ATLAS band members bolted from stage, shadows of shadows. Taking the stage stairs with one leap, Shiro launched himself into Keith’s arms and embraced him in a bone-crushing hug. Keith laughed into the taller man’s chest and clung to him, relishing in the way Shiro ducked down to press his cheek against his temple. “How much time’s left before the house bills us double?” Shiro asked.

“Sixteen minutes,” Iverson answered from somewhere behind Keith.

“Encore! Encore!” Coran cheered nearby, the sound watery as he clapped in time with the crowd in the hall.

“Go! Go!” Keith urged, giving Shiro a shove towards the stage. Shiro grinned down at him, grabbed his guitar from the tech, and strode back up the stage steps to enraptured screams from the crowd.

* * *

Long after the show, after the bands’ tour end party, after the screams of the crowd had finally faded and left his ears ringing... Keith found himself alone in Shiro’s hotel room. It had become increasingly commonplace the longer the tour ran, he realized. Not that he was complaining. But this night was different: this was the end. The dreaded end. _Last chance_ … He raised his eyes to meet Shiro’s and took a breath to speak—

“I don’t want to tour with VOLTRON again,” Shiro murmured, beating Keith to the punch.

Keith’s heart plummeted and the air froze in his lungs. _Of course,_ he thought. He had been a fool to hope for more, and yet he couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

Shiro gave him a reassuring smile. “Because I can’t cheer you on the way I want to from the green room,” he answered as he reached out to pull Keith into his arms. “I want to be in the pit, I want to see you bringing them all to their knees. I want to see you _conquer_ , Keith. And I can’t do that from the shadows.”

Keith felt the tightness in his chest ease. Tilting his head back, he looked up into Shiro’s eyes. He found them earnest and honest and so very in love. Keith knew he looked much the same. He gave Shiro a hesitant smile. “I think that can be arranged.”

Shiro grinned and—cupping Keith’s face in his hands—leaned down to kiss him.


End file.
